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About a B.

I'm a: Vulnerable sadist. Passive adventurer. Loquacious mute. Nomadic homebody. Extroverted hermit. Hedonistic puritan. Dominant bottom. Pretentious spendthrift. Methodological flitterer. Graceful klutz. Mostly honest liar. Creative destroyer. A mass of contradictions. Moodier than your average bear. Conceptually bipolar. Emotionally dyslexic. Honorably unethical. Violently ambivalent. Lovingly cruel. Sensitively indifferent. Complexly simple. Aggressively fragile. The word most often used to describe aspects of my personality by others is voracious. My speaking is tangential. Language is my first love. And friendship with me comes on a seesaw.

I enjoy many aspects of BDSM. Don't believe in traditional relationships. Love words more than the humans that bear them as meaning. Am excessively self-absorbed. Completely hypocritical. Abuse the bounds of grammatical precision. Like to get history lessons in coitus. Put up a mask of my life as a public study to trick people from realizing how selectively secretive I really am. Tend to take the most obvious sarcasm literally. Believe in: Romance and cheating; mystery and reason; empowerment and misogyny; passion and apathy. Often use nouns as verbs. Dance every day. Read, watch and laugh torrientially. Give lash kisses as foreplay. Still see animals in clouds and realism in magic. Find travel seductive. Bear random fascinations with other people's lives. Am always tempted to betray kindnesses. Obsess about things that will never matter. Realize that my moral compass came bent. That the only rules I live by were written by me. And that every opinion I hold is always subject to change without notice.

I'm always on the edge of disappearing. Chase happiness. Abuse love. Believe I'm made of equal parts superfluous, egomaniacal and awesome. And enjoy my own company more than anyone else I've ever met.

Yet and still, I like to meet: Skeletal structures that smile with their whole bodies. Stories with people to tell. Innocent cynics. Seduction by words. Jaded optimists. Forehead kisses that bear no expectations. Trees that hold the answers to questions in their roots. Mountains that echo back silences. Rivers that hold screams under their surfaces. Eyes that see emotions and consider them precious. Tongues that line the ridges of the ugliest beauty in honor. People who realize that really getting to know anyone else is a lesson in digging, forgiving, recycling, repeating ... and still give it a go past the inevitable repetitive failures.

And anyone that makes for the B's brand of funny.

My Blog

Im back. Or, sometimes the forward motion of time really sucks.

It began with a question. "Is baby with daddy now?" the doe eyes asked. Tongue radiating trust through the elongated vowels of a silent moue. Transmitted up from that hand, nestled into mother's, fro...
Posted by B. on Tue, 02 Oct 2007 02:36:00 PST

Glimpses of my life, from birth through elementary school:

One of the earliest stories I was ever told about myself was about how, when I was still very little, my grandmother reached out and pinched my cheeks one day in the grocery store. I, after frowning ...
Posted by B. on Mon, 27 Aug 2007 03:53:00 PST

Catalogued, from the shadows of a small, discontinued industrial town in America.

From the farthest outskirts, you can already start to see all of the mining roads to nowhere. Eclipsed only by the mountain spikes of a dozen rusted and weary factories. Caught like abandoned taunts, ...
Posted by B. on Thu, 23 Aug 2007 10:28:00 PST

Shine on you crazy diamond.

Today, time rejoices all the candid moments of your life. Takes the petals, birthed on the stem of your dreams, and throws them outward. Raining down celebration and honor, in all the testaments of th...
Posted by B. on Thu, 26 Jul 2007 11:00:00 PST

Tonight a child will be haunted by the remembrance of pedophilia. Told in three haikus.

Man drawn sickles, bendto wide eyes tilted with drought under their dresses. Octopus arms and leeching emotions. The truthwalks on broken stilts. Salt pillar fault lines.Your memory devastatesthe hall...
Posted by B. on Thu, 26 Jul 2007 07:21:00 PST

All the ways Ive known fists to feel like kisses.

I remember the manic glee lighting his eyes from within when he grabbed my wrist. Watching, struck mute in the slow motion beauty of the scene, as twilight gleamed in his fist. Raised like an anchor, ...
Posted by B. on Thu, 12 Jul 2007 06:48:00 PST

The press of the ocean, held under a distorted vision of the sky.

Sometimes my throat feels like an iron chest, cleaved to the underside of an abandoned shipyard, far beneath the sea. Barnacles hold my emotions closed, mute to the irresolute distance of the endless ...
Posted by B. on Fri, 06 Jul 2007 12:03:00 PST

All the ways in which love will always find a way to tear us apart.

It was as if the sky had stopped moving. The air sucked the deep black inwards, and folded its corners, edge against edge, towards the center. And together, like carnival clowns, we fell into the heap...
Posted by B. on Mon, 11 Jun 2007 05:47:00 PST

At the altar (which hangs).

Every second of our last argument sits like a billboard behind my eyes. How the floor gleamed cherry-wood highlights in the sun's reflection. The gentle arch of your foot bowed like a cathedra...
Posted by B. on Thu, 31 May 2007 03:07:00 PST

His voice truncates my prevarications.

I run from the seduction of how you seem to speak in razors. Each flutter of tongue, making me beg for either salvation or a scarring. Crawling along the meaning of a heartbeat, stuttering under the w...
Posted by B. on Thu, 03 May 2007 08:17:00 PST